Macabre Art Thread

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>closing the eyes not to look at her barely clothed form
Gentleman ghoul, I assume?

It's from a story driven by the artist on deviantart
Here's another one of them

It's about a lady living with this ghoulish form and trying to figure out what he is and why he keeps her there

link to the story?

bump

Here are the only story threads I could find
themichaelmacrae.deviantart.com/art/He-Does-Not-Sleep-467768607

themichaelmacrae.deviantart.com/art/Flechette-185672332

(in the image description)

Also, another one from him (I love his style and he loves cadavers)

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>themichaelmacrae.deviantart.com/art/He-Does-Not-Sleep-467768607
thanks

Thanks mate
Have a zombie halfling

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>High priest and prime demagogue of a people displaced and driven into inhospitable salt plains. Disease and famine poised to kill the tribes to a man when their high priest declared that he would go alone into the salt flats, commune with the heavens, and return with the answer to their salvation. Days later, when his desiccated form reappeared on the horizon he announced the discovery of a divine solution to their plight. He appealed to the medicine men to conduct a drastic form of trepanation on him. A large hole was cut into the top of his skull as his third eye with which he would commune with the heavens. After a day and night of mantras a holy pillar of light descended from the sky into the priest’s pate and burst forth from his face, removing much of it in the process. This beam of light acted as a guide to lead his people to a land of plenty. Once safe and settled, the priest announced that he was leaving, much to the lamentation of the saved tribes. It was blasphemy for him to dwell amongst them any further, he explained, for he had died on the first night he ventured forth into the flats to find his answer.
Keith Thompson is legendary

>APOLLONIAN WIGHT

>When experiments testing the viability of tapping into the quantum vacuum for energy were performed on the Apollo 21 Lab Station, reports devolved into strange ramblings about how their conclusions were inconceivable to human minds. Before all communication ceased, garbled messages were sent to earth from the astronauts about their experiments revealing to them the "howling face of the sun." A rescue crew was violently repulsed from the station by corpses in the astronaut's space suits. Footage of the incident show ghostly images of tormented figures hanging just behind these corpses, struggling, but seemingly unable to pull themselves apart from their decaying bodies.

This Keith Thompson is hanging in my apartment

>PESTILENTIAL ADVENT

Blood flooded the dusty foreign streets and beaded upon the sword of the crusading knight. As years passed the knight's armour grew crisscrossed and his face wizened, leaving him satiated to return to civilized lands. Turning home he saw a fellow countryman fallen on hard times, swaddled in rags. Hefting him up onto the back of his horse, the knight told him
"Come, we return to the warmth of our own hearths."
The thin man stared, saying nothing as a weakened flicker of joy seemed to wash across his gaunt face. The two rode across the continent, backtracking the knight's scorched and blasted path.

The days passed silently. "You say nothing, friend, but your companionship means much. Though I worry your health seems worse." The passenger stared at the knight, who himself seemed tired by their journey. On their many stops for water the knight found himself too weak to carry on, but his companion held him up in support.
"Resolve fills me as I look upon you, so ill and yet mustering strength enough to aid me. These sores pain me so, and spread 'cross my body in mockery of our righteousness spreading across heathen land. Looking upon you I'd swear you were dead, but your compassionate efforts betray you as a saint!"
The knight's eyes welled with tears, and in his vision a corona formed around the now starkly thin passenger's head.
Lolling in his saddle, but supported by the gaunt man sitting behind him, the knight pointed feebly to his hometown in the distance. The sudden baleful braying of the passenger's horn drowned out the knight's last rasping breath as it rattled in his iron helm.
The townsfolk cry out in joyful congregation at the sight of the single man upon his horse; not seeing the curled figure of pestilence crouching behind him, only bearing witness to their errant knight's pregnant homecoming.

>This one is as well

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Fernando?
youtube.com/watch?v=_dm0Ksl7isc

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now that's necromancy

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That's pretty good.

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Top tier thread, I feel obligated to dump what I can.

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Mind playing a melody?

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MORE KEITH THOMPSON

GHOUL

>As crops fail and famine wracks the land, those who turn to the last resort of cannibalism contract kuru, a transmissible spongiform encephalopathy, and their brains become pitted like sponge. As they degenerate the ghouls form into familial packs which whoop and laugh uncontrollably as they pull down the healthy in mob attacks. However they only feast on the bodies after weeks of decomposition, as the notion of consuming fresh meat disgusts them. The ghouls numbers are disproportionately comprised of pregnant or child rearing mothers. They are particularly resistant to the pull of despair and suicide, if only to care for their single child; the greatest number a desperate mother can afford to care for in such conditions.

NECROTIC COLOSSUS

Towering hulks of reshaped and animated flesh are a common sight in the Northern Steppes. Once terrifying siege engines employed in the Horizon Upheavals, a prolonged spate of peace has seen them decommissioned and adapted to cultural rituals. This specific necrotic collossus is actually functioning as a nomadic funeral temple. A site of excarnation that can follow tribes in their caravans, the collossus, once directed by a whip cracking beast master, is now only directed by two weary oxen.

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ANTHROPOPHAGUS

While not undead themselves, these corpseherds bear down on the aftermath of battle fields, reanimating the strewn dead and consuming the irreparable. These beings loom up eight feet, headless with unreadable faces set in their chests, mumbling to each other as they collect their cattle and return to the hills.

"And portance in my travels' history;
Wherein of antres vast and deserts idle,
Rough quarries, rocks, and hills whose heads touch heaven,
It was my hint to speak- such was the process-
And of the Cannibals that each other eat,
The Anthropophagi, and men whose heads
Do grow beneath their shoulders."

PRIPYAT BEAST

When the secondary explosion occurred at the reactor, spewing an almost immeasurable torrent of radioactivity into the jet stream, surrounding locales could only survive long enough to form mass graves for their dead. The under supplied, unprotected and ultimately doomed clean up crews sent their overseeing emergency committee a flurry of distress signals and sporadic reports of beasts emerging from the piles of bodies on the outskirts of towns. These beasts were said to vary dramatically, and appeared to be sickening amalgamations of people and livestock.

SARACEN GHAST

Atrocity matches atrocity as the crusades grind onwards, and most hope to only suffer the moaning ghosts of the massacred heard during moonless nights. A sudden increase in caravans and pilgrims found slaughtered has led to the clergy admitting their knowledge of a raiding force of ghasts haunting the crusader's supply line. It is later unearthed that the warrior monks tasked with confronting the threat have been intentionally lax, benefiting from the drop in pilgrims living to reclaim the money the Knights Templar hold in safe keeping for them during their travels.

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WENDIGO

While the pillis hail the coming of the deity Quetzelcoatl in the form of the white bearded man who calls himself Cortés, others in the higher echelons of the Aztec Empire believe the visitation to be that of mere men from foreign lands. Cadres of elite panther warriors are sent out into the wild to hunt the pale imposters. Driven by apocalyptic visions, these warriors degenerate into frenzied murderers, eating the flesh of their victims to gain their strength, forgoing the confines of humanity. Depraved and twisted with flesh stoked potency, the wendigos decimate the conquistadors in a bloody harvest.

VIRAEMIA

The civilised world lies on its knees, a sickness wracking its body. The affliction causes a necrotising of tissues so perfectly uniform in distribution that victims take on the appearance of corpses long before death occurs due to organ failure or secondary infections. The crumbling remnants of academia swing from fatalistic resignation to maddened optimism in their addressment of what could be done to fight the sickness.
The vast numbers of doctors attempting to stem the tide of infection, invariably falling victim to the malady they treat, have begun to form fanatical extermination squads whose policies are condoned by authority. A notion forms, twisting the tenets of the Hippocratic oath to say that when the oath taker is subject to the half-death of infection they are obliged to spend their lasting days attempting to destroy the source of the contagion. The paramilitary forces formed from the infected medical practicioners find themselves deigned to mete out persecution to the sufferers they were formally treating. Equipped with the leftovers of dissolved military forces, the Doctors' Militia are organised to burn all infected areas and sufferers; a campaign which stalks across blasted lands, mirroring the wave of infection in an addled attempt at backtracking all the way to some imaginary source.
Extensive bombing campaigns start firestorms that incinerate whole cities. Squads of "scorched earth" units are tasked with eradicating outlying locales. The distinctive appearance of the plague doctors, the only sight originally associated with any idea of hope, often causes the confused survivors of bombing runs to rush, open armed, towards the oncoming squads.

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SCRIBE

A scrivener automaton working in a rather wealthy merchant's library. The arcane procedures for creating automatons are as varied as their appearance and roles in society (servitors, military, labour, prostitution, etc). The taxidermic use of cured human remains is legalised, economical and common place in their construction (similar to how the powdered wigs in our past often used the hair of corpses). However the practice of "rendering" down living persons into an automaton state is outlawed, it is frequently employed since the resultant product tends to outperform the legal alternative. The merchant who owns this particular scribe automaton has some very extensive paperwork detailing her conformity to all applicable regulation. Despite this assurance, those who deal with her have noticed how quickly she learns new tasks, and have caught her smiling when backs are turned.

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I'm stealing that shit, that's a cool way to make a "good" liche

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This girl is macabre by any means, but I always felt like she would make a good spooky NPC in a horror game. Something about that stare just implies creepiness.

You posted cute.

Also yes.

Macabre can be cute right?

well i for one have a new BBEG for my group.
Wait till they get a load of this shit.

OP here, went to sleep with sharp stomach ache and came back to see all this, I'm glad.

Love the Keith Thompson in particular.

Gonna dump a bit more

Something borrowed into there user, and waits there waiting to metamorphosize.

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That's what i thought, i'm gonnna nurture it until it blossoms into my teared flesh. I will kiss it goodbye before letting out my last breath.

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RATTLE

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ZaLgO iSsssssss PlEAssssseèđ.
RAPTUROUS.

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>it is a photo

No, the photo here isn't art. The mummy is art.

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